


hopeless, head over heels in the moment

by KHart



Series: all at once, everything looks different, now that I see you [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: College AU, F/F, I saw a comic on Tumblr, and instantly wanted to write it for charlynch, because we deserve fluff, flowershop au, that was so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:35:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15892704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KHart/pseuds/KHart
Summary: When a flustered, near-crying woman comes into the small flower shop you've been tasked with maintaining for the day, what are you to do but make her a cup of tea and let her have a bouquet for free?---Or: a cute flower shop au for Charlynch based off of a comic I saw on Tumblr.





	hopeless, head over heels in the moment

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the link to the comic I was inspired by! 
> 
> http://heartstoppercomic.tumblr.com/post/168075325319/mini-comic-flower-shop-a-little-story-set-in-an
> 
> I take no credit for the idea or basics of the plot! I just thought it was super cute, and I wanted to write it for Charlynch.
> 
> \---
> 
> The title is from the song "Love Bug" by The Jonas Brothers, and if you haven't heard it, it's super cute and such a charlynch song, so I recommend it.
> 
> \---
> 
> Also, can y'all tell me what color you think Charlotte's eyes are? Because I've been using green in my fics, because that's what it says on google, but personally I've always thought they looked blue.
> 
> \---
> 
> My Tumblr: flairfatale

Sighing for what is probably the twentieth time in the last five minutes, Becky glances at the door again. 

She drums her fingernails against the surface of the counter. She pushes her palm further in against her cheekbone. She contemplates her existence as a human. 

_Why am I here? What's the point? Would it even matter if I left?_

You know, just the casual thoughts and happenings of a dull morning...

Another breath of agitation puffs out of her chest and into the air. 

_Why do Mondays always have to be so **slow**?_

The clock on the wall chimes a cute little tune, light and airy, indicating that yet another hour has passed without any customers or form of entertainment to help Becky pass the time. She frowns grumpily.

And, honestly, she loves working in this little flower shop. She does. It's the perfect part-time job for an undergraduate college senior such as herself. 

People rush past the windows outside, bundled up and hunched into themselves in an effort to block out the cold.

 _But_ , also honestly, it can absolutely _drag_ at times.

And today, unfortunately, is one of those times. 

And it really has nothing to do with the fact that there's a small snow storm coming in from the West, because people are still going about their business, going to their jobs, and their parties, and whatever else it is that average humans do with their lives. 

It's just the fact that it's February, after Valentine's Day, and it's cold, so people don't really have much use for flowers at the moment. All of the wedding orders for the week have been filled, all of the "I'm sorry," "I love you," "Sorry I mistook your car for mine," cards have been written and placed with their arrangements, ready for pickup. 

So, Becky has absolutely _nothing_ to do. 

She could truly just go to the back and take a nap if she really wanted, and with each passing minute, the thought becomes more and more tempting. 

But, _no_ , she promised Paige that she would cover her shift and not tell her mother, so she can't afford any slip-ups, or any possibilities of a slip-up.

She sits up straighter with the thought. 

She can do this. She can get through this.

It's just five more hours...

She whines lowly underneath her breath, petulantly enough to invoke mockery from Naomi, if she were present.

If only something _interesting_ would happen, she thought. (Or wished for, really).

 _Well_ , the universe seems to respond suddenly, _don't say you weren't ever given anything._

A ring from the bell on the door sounds out.

Becky's attention is drawn to its cause immediately. Her head almost whips around harshly enough to give her whip _lash_. 

She blinks some of the bored haze from her eyes, and then she feels her heart stutter at the sight of the woman before her, who now stands still, with her hands in the pockets of her trench coat and snowflakes in the strands of her hair. 

An involuntary, and thankfully quiet, "Oh," falls from Becky's lips, just as she watches the woman bite down on her own.

She looks nervous and stressed, Becky notices, but it isn't until she hears a sniff, that's a terribly obvious indication of impending tears, that Becky finally spurs herself out of her stupor and into action. She moves up off of her stool and walks around the counter in the next instant. 

"Hey," she greets softly, walking slowly, so as to not completely startle the woman. "Are you okay?"

She gets a jump and a swift wiping of teary eyes as a result anyway, but, luckily, the gentleness of her demeanor seems to soothe whatever sudden fear had appeared. 

"Oh—Oh, hi..." A semi-difficult swallow. "Yeah," comes the breathless response, wavering a little in the space between them. "Yes. I'm sorry. I just—." Becky watches a delicate tremble affect the muscles of the woman's jaw. "I, um..."

Some more upset finds its way into her voice, and Becky tilts her head.

"Hey, it's okay," she tries to reassure calmly. "Why don't you, uh, why don't you come into the back? I can make you a cup of tea?" Those eyes find her own again, piercingly. "Yeah?"

There's a few seconds of hesitance before she finally gets a weak nod of answer that makes her feel a bit relieved. 

She smiles kindly and places a faint, guiding hand to the woman's back to show her the way. 

They walk past the counter and an aisle to the curtained doorway that leads to the more secluded greenhouse area of the shop, which is usually accessible to employees only but will have to make an acceptation today. 

There's a small sitting area in the middle of the space that Becky tends to favor as one of the most peaceful places to be on break, and, so, that's where she leads them. 

"Here, you can sit on this bench here, and I'll go make you a cup of tea. Do you have any preferred kind?"

"Um, Earl Grey, if you have it. But anything's fine. Thank you."

Becky smiles again with a nod, watching for only a moment as the woman takes the same spot on the bench that Becky usually likes to occupy. 

Then she walks promptly to the small, break area in the back, where the emergency tea supplies are always kept well-stocked.

She spends the few minutes it takes to make the drink tapping her foot lightly against the ground, wondering what could possibly be making this woman so upset to have her coming into a flower shop ready to cry. 

Her mind runs wild with possibilities—her imagination tends to get the best of her, she's told—and, so, by the time the microwave beeps, signaling that the water is hot enough, Becky has a fully-formed frown upon her lips.

She tries to pick up her pace some, and, though it results in three slightly-burnt fingers, she manages to finish the beverage in only another minute or two.

She starts to make her way back, and when she rounds the corner again, cupping the warmth of the mug in her hands, she finds the woman looking around curiously, more peaceful than before. Her face has a more relaxed expression to it, and her eyes have a less melancholic shine.

(Becky's absolutely struck by how beautiful she is. She nearly has to clear her throat.) 

She starts walking forward from where she had drawn up short.

"Here you go," she says, after a few seconds of making her steps loud enough to hear. "Be careful. It's still hot."

Both of the woman's hands come out to take her offering, and if Becky feels slight tingles erupt across her fingers when they brush against them upon the transfer, well, that's no one else's business.  

She wipes her suddenly sweating palms against the fabric of her apron subtly, as she sits on the same bench, while still keeping a respectable distance between them.

"So, what's troubling ya, lass?"

The woman brings the cup down from her lips, swallowing her sip of tea and then delicately holding it atop her lap. 

She clears her throat and waits a few seconds, a little bit of the earlier discomfort coming back to her expression.

”It’s really not that big of a deal honestly,” she starts off, looking a little sheepish. “I just haven’t been having that great of a week, and everything seems to be piling up on me.”

Becky nods understandingly, encouragingly, trying to portray how much she believes the woman’s feelings are valid.

There’s a quiet sigh. 

“Okay, so, basically, everything that could go wrong this week has. Like, I missed the deadline for one of my papers, and I was late to work twice because of my crap car breaking down, and my mother has been sick for a while, but I don’t have the money to fly back home to visit her, and it all just really sucks. And, then, today, I have this wedding to go to, which feels like the least important thing going on in my life, and the venue is also about an hour’s drive out, which wouldn’t really feel that bad if it wasn’t my _ex’s_ wedding.” 

Becky cringes internally.

She shows some sympathy outwardly.

“I’m assuming it wasn’t an amicable break up?”

“He cheated on me.” Becky flinches for real this time. “With the person he’s marrying.” 

 _Ouch_. 

That absolutely _sucks_. 

“Wow, I—I’m sorry. He sounds like an absolute jerk.” 

“Oh, yeah. That’s a total understatement. And I want nothing to do with him, honestly, but I have to go because my parents have known him for so long and they’re so high-society that they see standing up an invitation to an event as a backhand slap across the face.” 

Becky just nods again, because she's not sure what she can add that will be of value. 

They sit for a second in silence, as the woman takes another drink, and as Becky finds herself thinking: _Who gets married on a Monday?_  

The cup is lowered again, and then the beautiful woman lifts her free hand up to gesture at nothing in particular.

"To be honest, I don't even know what kind of person gets married on a _Monday_ , which is the worst day, but it probably has something to do with him wanting to book the venue, or whatever. I don't know."

Becky has to resist the sudden urge to smile. It would be tactless to show how endeared she is by the person who seems to be having one of the worst days of their life.

"But, _anyways_ , he calls me this morning and says that he doesn't think they have flowers for the cake table and 'Oh, can you pick some up on your way here? I'll totally owe you one,' like he didn't already owe me about two years of my life back." A harsh sigh, a brushing of blonde hair from green eyes. "But obviously I said yes, even though I was already feeling pretty shitty about the whole thing, but now I don't know if I'll even make it on time, because the snow is making my car run funny _again_. And here I am, practically crying about it to a complete stranger, which I'm sorry for, by the way—."

"Jesus, your ex sounds like a complete and _utter_ asshole," Becky suddenly finds herself exclaiming, her ire rising. She briefly places her hand atop the woman's knee. "I’m sorry to interrupt you, but wait here."

"O-Okay."

Becky sweeps away in a flurry of sudden thought and determination. 

She retreats back to the front to grab a pair of clippers and then returns to the greenhouse only to move about with the swift and purposeful air of someone on a newfound mission.

That imagination, that always fills her head with (not-so-great, at times) ideas, is working perfectly with her indignation, and together they're showing her the perfect combination of just what flowers to put together in a bouquet to make a real statement. (Though Becky's almost positive there won't be but maybe two people who will understand it. That's okay. As long as it's still made.)

She mumbles different possibilities and thoughts to herself as she goes along, and, eventually, she's got an arrangement that she's rather proud of. 

So, after walking back to where the woman still sits—and appears to have finished her tea—Becky extends her hand out, offering the bouquet with an accomplished breath. 

"For your ex's wedding," she explains, upon seeing the confused expression, once again, directed at her. "They're on the house."

"Oh—Oh no. I couldn't—."

"Sure, you can! Because, look, the Geraniums?" Becky points at one of the clusters of small red flowers. "They symbolize stupidity. And Basil?" Now the purple ones. "They symbolize hatred." She sees the other woman's lips quirk up in a surprised smile, and, so, of course, her own follow suit. "And finally we have Meadowsweet." These are the decorative white ones. "They symbolize uselessness." She takes the now-empty cup in exchange for the flowers. "They essentially mean 'Fuck you,' in florist speak, because what kind of _asshole_ asks their ex to get them flowers on their wedding day? Honestly?"

The woman chuckles lowly, sending Becky reeling just a little on her axis. (Because she doesn't think she's ever been fond of a sound before, but people experience firsts every day, she's learned.) 

Her smile widens, as her chest warms. 

"That's brilliant, actually," comes the hoped-for reaction, followed by a glance down to an ornate watch and then an apologetic, semi-reluctant look. "I—I have to get going, if I want to make it on time, but, really, I don't think I can thank you enough. You've definitely made my day into one that's more bearable, whereas before I really wouldn't have fought being frozen to death in the storm."

It's Becky's turn to laugh, and she notices, when she does, that the woman's smile has broadened enough itself to make the tiny dimples in her cheeks more pronounced.

"Well, I'm glad I could save you from being a casualty of nature, lass. Be careful getting to where you're going, okay?"

They've migrated to the door once more, to the same spot where they started. Becky notices the snow hasn't let up one bit. 

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much again. You've been so incredibly kind to me. This place will definitely be getting five stars from me. I'll recommend it to all my friends."

"Well, I can't promise they'll get the same type of treatment, but you can guarantee that we'll take care of all their floral needs."

The woman smiles warmly at her, warm enough to make her feel as if she's melting, as if it's not the middle of February and there's a snowstorm outside.

A second lingers between them, meaningfully, but then she's being bid farewell with one more glance of gratitude and a soft goodbye. 

She stands in her spot for a minute or two afterward, feeling as if something within her has been fundamentally shifted. Then she realizes that she never even got a name. 

\---

A few customers come in, later on in the day, but none of them are as interesting or as captivating as the quietly gorgeous woman that Becky had met so unexpectedly.

So, even as three days pass after Monday, Becky's head stays stuck on the blonde.

And she finds herself, somehow, feeling more miserable than before.

Because how could she have forgotten to get _her name_? What kind of completely and utterly useless excuse of a human is she? That she can't even remember to get the name of one of the most gorgeous people she's ever met. 

(She needs to pick herself some Meadowsweets, honestly.) 

She sighs. 

So, now it's Thursday, and she's back at the flower shop to help teach a flower crown-making class with Naomi, but she's almost too bummed to be invested in it.

(With the key-word being almost, seeing as she's on her third crown already.) 

She entwines two more stems together. 

"And she had this _laugh_ , Naomi. It was so soft, and—and her dimples were probably the cutest things I've ever seen in my life, and—."

" _And_ _then_ she had to go, but you failed to get her name," Naomi nods, focusing on her own crown. "Yes, tragic, you've told me this _five_ _times_ , Becks."

Becky frowns. She puts a little more force into her efforts and ends up snapping one of the stems altogether.

She lets out a frustrated huff. 

Naomi shoots her a glance, looking between her ruined work and her glower for a few seconds.

" _Okay_ , Pouty, why don't you go help some of the kids. Maybe it'll take your mind off of your so-called 'one that got away.'"

Becky grumbles underneath her breath as she slides off of her stool.

"Probably not, when she literally _is_  'the one that got away.' Stop being _rude,_ Naomi. I'm in mourning."

"Oh my god. Could you _be_ any more dramatic?"

Becky wrinkles her nose at her friend.

" _Probably_."

Naomi rolls her eyes, and Becky does end up cracking a small grin at the sight. She turns and makes her way to the kids' table.

"Miss Becky!" one of the little girls exclaims, once she's closer. "Look! I've got _two_ different kinds of flowers in my crown!"

Becky's expression lightens significantly.

"Wow!" she responds with enthusiasm. " _Two,_ did you say? That's amazing! It took me about a _thousand_ tries to be able to get _two_ flowers into my crowns. I think we may have a genius on our hands."

The little girl, Jasmine, beams up at her. 

"And I did it all by myself!"

Becky lifts her eyebrows.

"Well, then that settles it! You're just going to have to take over the business! We're going to have to get you your own apron and everything."

Jasmine giggles.

"One like yours?"

Becky nods.

"Oh, even better than mine."

"Can it be blue? I know yours is green, but I really like blue."

"Well, I don't see why it couldn't be. I mean, you're the boss now, right? You can have one with all the colors in the rainbow if you want."

"Oh! My daddies love rainbows! We have a rainbow flag in our living room!"

"Do they now? I think I might have one to match."

She gets another bright smile in response, and for a few minutes, as she chats with the rest of the kids around the table, she feels better. Because kids always just seem to renew her faith in the future of the world.

So, she almost forgets entirely why she was feeling so woeful before... Right up until the chime of the bell on the door rings out amongst the dull chatter in the air.

Her gaze is instantly drawn to it, just like last time, but, at first, she merely casts a brief glance over to the entrance, not quite registering who she sees. Her attention returns to her task at hand, and it's only when Naomi says "Hi! How can I help you?" in a cheery tone and is answered with a quiet, "Um, is Becky here? I think that's her name? She was working on Monday?" that Becky's heart jumps up into her throat. 

Her head snaps up again. Her eyes land on the tall figure of just who she's been wishing she'd see once more.

She leaves her half-finished project abandoned on the tabletop, standing and making her way over to the woman just as Naomi gestures in her direction and says, "Yeah. She's right over—."

"Hey!" Becky greets, her smile wide and welcoming. "It's you!"

The woman meets her halfway. 

That same smile that's been stuck in Becky's head finally reappears in real time, and, so, consequently, she feels like her knees might give out. 

"Yeah," comes the reply, light and a little shy, along with a gesture towards the white flowers sitting against the orange of her hair. "This is cute."

"Oh! Thanks." A faint blush dusts across the tops of her cheekbones and nose. "I made it myself." She points, herself, at a word embroidered across the front pocket of the woman's jean jacket. "'Queen?'"

A glance down, and then a sound of realization. 

"Oh!" Now, Becky's not the only one blushing. "That's just a nickname. My friends got me this jacket a few years back for my birthday."

Becky doesn't want to admit how fitting the term feels, and, yet, she does. 

"Well, in that case. I have just the thing for you."

She turns just slightly, just enough, to be able to reach for the first ringlet of flowers she'd made earlier, the one she put together with the thought of how well it would match this very person's hair and eyes. 

She lifts it into the space between them, presents it as one would to real royalty.

"Every queen deserves their own crown," she says seriously, only breaking her expression when the woman takes the hint and lowers her head for her. 

Becky places the assortment of purple and white upon the golden of the woman's hair, and she practically beams when their eyes meet again.

"There. The outfit is finally complete." 

A dimple makes a reappearance, along with another tint of blush.

"You're sure it doesn't look silly?"

"No! It looks beautiful. Perfectly fitting for royalty."

Becky gets a giggle for her efforts, one that's soft and sweet-sounding. 

"Well, then, I guess it'll have to be integrated into the rest of my outfits, until the end of time."

"That's really your only option, yes."

They both laugh together again, and Becky feels like she's buzzing all over. (She can also feel Naomi's gaze periodically flickering up to them in the distance, but it isn't hard to ignore her.) 

"Okay, so, I—um... I got you something." The woman brings a bag up into their line of sight, that Becky hadn't even noticed in her hand before. "To say thank you for the other day. Because it really did mean a lot." She reaches in and lifts out a single rose, with its stem wrapped in plastic and a tag tied around it by the base of the bud. "Because sometimes I have a hard time remembering that the world isn't going to end in the moment. So, thank you for reminding me."

Becky finds herself, suddenly, at a loss for words. Which almost _never_ happens.

She reaches up to grab ahold of the gift.

"I—Wow," she stutters. "You—You really didn't have to repay me in any way. But—But thank you so much. Really." She glances down. "And it's—."

"Pink," the woman nods, a bashful expression on her face. "To symbolize gratitude."

And Becky's so touched by the gesture, so enamored by this person in front of her, that she doesn't even realize that she's placed her hand completely on top of the woman's own. Not for a few seconds anyway. 

When she does, her blush turns fierce, burning bright enough to rival the vibrancy of her hair. 

The woman smiles at her, looking endeared and like she's contemplating something.

The moment they're experiencing seems to slow for just them. 

Becky finds that she doesn't remember how to breathe _at all_  as the space between them lessens all of a sudden. 

The air in her chest nearly bursts full-force out of her in shock when soft lips press lightly against the curve of her cheekbone, fleeting and faint, but very, very effective in rendering Becky useless as a human once again.

The rose is pressed into her hand, and she vaguely registers the sensation enough to curl her fingers around it, so it won't slip to the floor. 

Those green eyes sparkle at her as they pull back.

"I have to go again, but make sure you read the tag."

Becky nods.

"O-Okay."

She gets another smile from over the shoulder, and, luckily, it's pure instinct that has her return it. 

The ringing of the bell signals the woman's departure once more, but this time Becky doesn't feel sorrow at the sound. 

She glances down to the label and turns it face up so that she can read the words written neatly across it. 

_555-0876_

_Wanna go for a drink?_

_Charlotte (Charlie) x_

Naomi appears by her side, reading over her shoulder.

"So, I guess she wasn't the one that got away, after all."

Becky grins, feeling her cheek tingle where _Charlotte_ had kissed her.

"No," she breathes out. "I guess not." 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! 
> 
> once again here is the link to the original comic and artist: http://heartstoppercomic.tumblr.com/post/168075325319/mini-comic-flower-shop-a-little-story-set-in-an
> 
> \---
> 
> my Tumblr is flairfatale


End file.
